All done.

I’m done with a bunch of things. I ate a bunch of broccoli yesterday to attempt to keep my damn kid out of my bed last night. She is adorable, and often I love to have her sleep as she is the most adorable thing in the world. However, I am also a fan of my ‘own’ bed.

But honestly, why my brain would make me think broccoli was a good plan? Sigh. Slept like shit. farty shit. And now I am here, at almost eleven am, exhausted. Yelling at my kid who is 15 now to get out of my room so maybe I can take a nap. He is farty too, or I’m hoping thats the smell there. but I want just one place in the house that is mine, that the messes are mine, that the laundry I launder is just mine. MINE.

I’m all done with sharing. can i be? can i be all done with sharing my bed with children? is there some lost chance, some missed opportunity to snuggle that i will regret forever?

I’m done with my big project. Yes, another will arrive in a month, because it is luck to have work at all. This one was a particular challenge as i was morose and not working at all for a week, then the kids were here and recovery and grief and all, and suddenly i was in deep shit. brutal encouragement did the trick. but today, it is done.

now i go off to look at the class i signed up for, and get dreamy again, and maybe clean out the fridge. I’d like to rent a truck to move furniture to the dump. because otherwise i have to burn this messy house down. another thing i am done with.

teenagers. not done, but done, if you know what i mean. done.

sigh. i want some energy. where is it? did i have it before the broccoli problem? last year? When?

another thing I am done with? thinking that I should be all done with this pandemic thing. I ‘should be’ moving on, getting through, getting out. I should be moving, losing the weight, turning it around. The numbers are great, so great, comparatively. My mother is fully vaccinated, as are my in-laws and many people I love. And I don’t know how to accurately express the emotional salad bowl I have going on in me. What’s my resistance? What’s my problem? Why do I want to make another cake when I start thinking about it? Shit. fuck.


What are you done with? Really. I mean it. What are you done with?

close up photo of stacked brownies on chopping board
Brownie cake will do just fine. Photo by Marta Dzedyshko on


Still at it.

I’m still working on the project, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and it is lovely. This is a deadline I did not think I would make, and now I am pretty certain I will. I’ve got friends and family who have been harassing the hell out of me gently and firmly and I have loved it.

I am also a new auntie and i am very proud of all the work i have done to achieve this. (laughing) and what I will say is that I am very happy to be reminded of how fucking amazing women are. Because HOLY SHIT.

I would like to tape to my body silent videos of my birth experiences. I think it would be an incredible installation actually, to walk around a gallery seeing the most awesome experiences of some women’s lives. I don’t actually have video of them, but I could take it from memory like Gandalf, put it in a sieve and let you see it.

This is a lunch break and I’ve made eggs and a bagel. (do you hear how my brain is mushy? I do.)

I’ve been noticing how tired I get after eating, like the full stomach of Thanksgiving day just tired and ready to sleep. My brain has a hard time snapping to attention.

And then I got a friend phone call so ANOTHER DISTRACTION! but, now i know i can get it all done, on time, probably. but there is LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL!!

cheers, lovies.


yellow and green led light
Game Over Photo by cottonbro on


Procrastination fuckery.

these are the things i type to my accountability partner, gibbler.

: just hit 12 K. cry for me argentina.

: oh my god, i just want to eat and watch tv. this one is a wolf and a witch. i’m dying dying.

: my brain is bleeding.

: evil eye to the laptop

:you are the devil.

:i need food.


She is so good. She just tells me to keep going. She’s amazingly good at it. She doesn’t even sympathize, just tells me how good i’ll feel at the end, which is true.

Failing gibbering maw of doubt and whine: This is how much i am suffering for my art. ( i just snorted, because this is many things, but it is not art.) I just want to point out what my accountability partner has to deal with while i am writing a 35000 word romance. and i am potentially in trouble on the deadline of this one. I just caught myself playing a swap it match game on my phone. and I’m here, now. My brain is toast. I wrote almost six thousand words yesterday and that feels like a lot. I wish I made tons of money. I wish my sauna were electric so I used it more. I wish I was easier for people to understand. I wish plants could talk if they wanted to. I wish this story were done. I wish i had some chocolate. I wish I didn’t have to go right back to it, right now. I don’t like horses, really, although i think they just intimidate me. but I have plenty of wishes anyhow.

sigh. fuck.

I’m at 22,000 words. Thats a fuck ton. It really is. I still haven’t done my taxes.

sigh. fuck.

adorable horse standing on pasture in mountains
This is a beautiful horse, not a wish. Photo by Dario Fernandez Ruz on

These dreams are made of this.

I realized a few things today. And found a few tough to love qualities. in me, but mostly them.

  1. I have two teenaged boys living here. Two. I need to be more cognizant of what this means to them, and to me. One is deep into the ‘i’m the center of the universe’ place that teens go. He is truly lovely and caring and occasionally heart-breakingly sweet, but lives there in many of the interactions he has with his mother. (that would be me. he frequently feels attacked when i walk by. my face is very powerful, i suppose.)
  2. Many adult men that I have in my life are also myopically self-centered. It is very hard for me to handle, at this point. In some cases, they are old and too isolated. In others, they are just that way and always have been. they literally cannot have a conversation about a child without interjecting their own needs and life into it. literally. its astonishing. . . In another, they are just too high on the ADD, or ADHD, and can’t focus on a still object like myself. I get all of this. But it is deeply deeply unsatisfying. DEEPLY. It’s even hard to maintain a friendship like that. (i’m not talking about you, Indy, so stuff it.)
  3. I’m obsessed with this television show called ALONE. i just discovered it on hulu and i think its been around for awhile. It goes hand in hand with my need for a journey, and my need to understand men in some damn way. These men go out and try to survive in a wood for as long as possible. not together, each alone. they film themselves, there is no crew. they make it, or don’t. and i’m just obsessed. i know men are different, and yet i found myself in several of them, breaking out into O solo mio randomly in the alone. That’s me. right there. I’ve just seen the end of the first season, and i need to take a break and feel the deepness of the dark wood for a little bit.
  4. I love this song, it fills me with bliss. It is in Italian. I’ve been tryin to re-find it for several years. I used to be able to tell you what it all meant. but if you asked me to dance for six hours to this song on repeat, i probably could. I’m pretty sure I might be the only one, and I don’t care. O Mare Nero, by Lucia Battisti. It reminds me of a dance party I attended where we literally shook the floor of the cottage. love it or leave it. i’m good.

Four again. Stuff it. I just spent 15 minutes in my hammock outside and goddamnit, it was possibly the best fifteen of the week.




You do not have to… you do not need to.

This is a Cynthia Lee prompt, and in reaction to a Mary Oliver poem, Wild Geese.

Sigh. Exceptional poem. EXCEPTIONAL. Please just go inhale it.

To myself I say:

You do not have to pretend to have it all together. You do not have to show your disaster.

You do not have to look like the other moms. You do not have to make small talk just to prove your humanity.

You do not have to consider every single person’s point of view every time. You do not have to argue with yourself when you get an interesting idea.

You do not have to buy any more candy. You do not need to satisfy the unsatisfied.

You do not need to explain yourself again. You do not need to explain your bad dreams. You do not need to hurry through.

You do not need to demand anything from anyone.

You do not need to settle.

You do not need to brand, niche, conform to the ‘way to make money’ writing.

You do not need to give up. You do not need to wear beige just because it goes with everything. You do not need to make sense to anyone else.

What do you say?

love love,


background of natural green leaf with veins
Upclose leaf . Photo by Skylar Kang on